She noticed
that now her knees were trembling and that if they trembled much
more she would not be able to walk at all.
"Now, Maggie, steady your knees!" she said to herself. But look, the
houses now were trembling a little too! Ridiculous those smart
houses with their fine doors and white steps to tremble! No, it was
her heart, not the houses . . .
"Do I look queer?" she thought; "will people be looking at me?"
Ideas raced through her head, now like horses in the Derby.
"Woof! Poof! Off we go!" St. Dreot's, that square piece of grass on
the lawn with the light on it, her clothes, the socks that must be
mended, Caroline's silk and the rustle it made, shops, houses,
rivers, seas, death--yes, Aunt Anne's cancer . . . and then, with a
great upward surge like rising from the depths of the sea after a
dive, Martin! Martin, Martin! . . . For a moment then she had to
pause. She had been walking too fast. Her heart jumped, then ran a
step or two, then fell into a dead pause . . . She went on, seeing
now nothing but two lamps that watched her like the eyes of a giant.
She was there! This was a Marble Arch! All by itself in the middle
of the road.
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